


Nope.

by DarkFantasy



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Other, Rants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 10:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12768804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkFantasy/pseuds/DarkFantasy
Summary: A rant.





	Nope.

Like any other day, she was aways there.

 

Several times he's entertained the idea of kicking her out. But the bitch was born lucky.

She was the most loyal thing on this planet, even more so than Flug. The weak willed 'scientist' was so easily jostled under his contract after all. But she?

Well. He sure as hell wasn't even giving her the time of day, and still she insisted on dying for him. It's gotten to the point where she would deliberately take bullets for him, just to intimidate the enemy. 

She knows he's untouchable. She knows bullets do nothing. In fact, he's told her once that nothing can actually cause harm to him in any way shape or form. But still, she'll take that damn bullet. Just for kicks? He knew she was crazy, but he also knew she liked living too much to do it for kicks...

 

To impress him perhaps?

No. He doubted that too. To actually work towards impressing someone would require brain cells. Something he knows she severely lacks. On dangerous levels.

 

Or some sick twisted way of wooing him?

... She should have known by now that it wasn't working.

 

He had considered asking once, when she had taken a particularly nasty shot. It had left her torn in half, her blood leaking out faster than she could regenerate. She looked up at him, arm struggling to reach for his leg. Her body tried to pull itself together, the muscles reaching out for her other half. Before she passed out, she looked up at him and apologized.

 

He was beyond perplexed. And at that moment he absolutely _itched_ to find out more about this, dementia girl. With a flick of his wrist, Flug had ran to her aid. He'd known he'd regret it, but for now. He thought he'd like to get to know her. Her and her blind, freverant obsession with him.

 

When she was healed, and it was rather quick to his dismay, she had found him again. 

The place he lived in wasn't just a place, it was a reflection of him. The hallways were never constant, always changing. Some didn't even make physical sense. His headquarters was sometimes bigger, or smaller, on the inside. He didn't exactly sweat, or give off any odors without actually thinking about it, and as far as he knew, there was no way any creature could track him. Yet by some miraculous power, she still managed to find him. As if the twisting, changing, questionable hallways weren't enough, she somehow found him. And it was always the case, ever since she had laid her eyes on him.

 

At some point in time he had actually considered her a spy of some sort. He had Flug place the tracker. But there are times where he questions where the idea even came from. 

The girl was a puzzle indeed. He couldn't tell if she was acting like a dumbass crazy bitch, or actually was a dumbass crazy bitch. There are rare moments when he is almost at awe at her actions, like her ability to seemingly track him when she wants to. He's chalked it up to luck at some times, but it's happening too many times for it to be a coincidence. 

 

He softened visibly for her, and allowed her to slither closer. And when she was as close as she dared, on all fours like a loyal dog in front of him, he asked her sweetly, like a lover whispering a secret. 

Why did she take the hit?

 

She brightened up visibly, he could've sworn her hair glowed a bit brighter, and she told him.

Her answer left him more baffled than before.

 

She had done it because  **he was untouchable.**  

 

And she took it like an oath. 

Nothing was allowed to touch him. Not bullets. Not women. And definitely not those pesky heroes. It was her mission in life.

 

He simply dismissed her than. Another flick of his wrist and she slithered away. And he couldn't help thinking, how oddly obedient she was at that moment.

 

She usually never listened to anyone. Even when he gave her an order, it was like flipping a coin. Sometimes she was all too happy to comply, other times she would be determined to have her way. Still, it seemed odd to see her obey.

 

He mulled it over, turning the thought over and over in his head. She wanted to make him untouchable. 

He liked it. 

 

Ever since then he had stopped caring about her. 

He had finally solved the puzzle. It was simple really, she was just a girl obsessed with him.

 

 

Of course there were times where it had become too close to the edge of annoyance. But he kept her around still, if only to liven up his dull days. 

 

* * *

 

 

He was not of this world.

He was something entirely different, unexplainable, undefined, null, and void. But in his own opinion, in his own mind, there were no doubts.

He was Black Hat. The embodiment of evil. 

Nothing could ever be more terrifying, more chaotic, more horrific than him. 

 

The things. The delicious thoughts he had. Those mind numbing brilliant ideas. All of it so dark and twisted and cruel that it constantly cried and burned to be let out. He felt physical pain to hold it all in. 

And he couldn't help it. The whole thing just bought a smile to his face.

 

He'd bide his time. Hold it in till the next time he went on a rampage, or played a trick on the sorry fools stupid enough to be around him. All of it was still not enough for him. 

He needed more.

_**Craved. More.** _

Often times he'd retreat into his mind, vividly reliving his favourite fantasies. And as he held back more and more, his body broke down more and more.

His skin would begin to have a life of its own, every single pore hungrily reaching out, squirming, to carry out the dark desires in his depraved head. He had long since lost his second eye, covering up the void of endless evil with a special piece of mirror. Nothing could stop it unless he would do something about it.

 

As the years went by, he trained himself. Paced it perfectly. Held it all in.

It was the sweetest torture.

 

 

He had never felt such intense feelings. Like a million insects crawling, clawing, itching, to burrow out from under his skin. His eye felt like it'd pop out comically, just like the other one did, the fresh wound leaking his thoughts and having odd creature like beasts emerge from within him. He felt like he'd just double over, his back ripping open violently to free everything that lay inside him.

 

This was all he knew.

His thoughts. His ideas. His body. His mind. 

 

 

There was no room for anything else.

He was simply incapable of doing anything else.

 

 

 

He couldn't ever feel sympathetic. Or merciful. Or kind, or generous, or anything other than the need to do something,  _ **real bad.**_

 

He sure as hell, would never feel affectionate. Not even towards the dumbass crazy bitch that constantly praised his name.

 

Even if she worshipped him like a God.


End file.
